The Boss' Surrender (Callahan's Secretary) by Seraphina Donavan Page A

chest.  She could feel his breath feathering warmly over her neck.  “You could be, very easily... Say the word, Grace and the whole world could know that you are mine.”
                  “We’ve talked about this before.... and it never goes well.”
                  He sighed.  “You’re right, and this weekend is supposed to be about something else altogether.”
                  “Such as?” she asked, enjoying the feel of having him close, of the hardness and the heat of his body against her. 
                  He nipped her ear, his teeth scraping against the delicate lobe.  Goosebumps immediately raised on her skin.  “It’s about teaching you to ski,” he said. 
                  “Is that all?” she asked, arching her back so that the curve of her bottom pressed against him.   His hands immediately tightened on her hips, tugging her closer.  She could feel his cock thickening, lengthening against her. 
                  “The spa is at your disposal tomorrow... any treatment you want.  Wraps, massages, pedicures.”
                  Grace laughed.  “You won’t know me by the time they’re through with me.”
                  Anthony’s voice was shockingly tender as he spoke softly against her ear, “I’ll always know you.  You’re like no one else, Grace.”
                  “Take me to bed.  Make love to me,” she urged.  There was a note in her voice, a need that frightened her.  She ignored it, turning in his arms, until they were chest to chest.  His lips touched her and the kiss was so sweet, so tender, that it brought tears to her eyes.  His mouth settled over hers so gently, but there was an intensity to it that was overwhelming.  Her own lips parted beneath his, and his tongue glided into her mouth, softly, sweetly.  It was a seduction, unnecessary, but still divine.  His hands slid into her hair, then down her neck to the zipper at the back of her dress.  One light tug and the zipper was sliding down, a whisper of sound in the room.  Grace shivered a bit in the cold, but his hands were on her skin then, warming it.  The straps slid over her arms, then the fabric was falling, puddling at her feet and she wore only pale, ivory, lace that she had donned that morning.  The garments had been chosen with him in mind.  The bustier was utterly sheer, cupping her breasts and camouflaging her nipples with delicate embroidery.  The attached garters were delicate satin bows, and the matching panties tied at her hips.  The slightest tug on those small bows and they would simply fall away. 
                  “Beautiful,” he whispered. 
                  She felt beautiful.  All the doubts and insecurities were still there with the rest of the world, but when she was with Anthony, Grace realized she truly felt beautiful, in her clothes and out of them.  His appreciation of her body, the way he responded to her, had healed so many old wounds.  Grace wasn’t quite prepared when he swept her into his arms, carrying her with one arm supporting her back and the other beneath her knees, like a bride being carried over the threshold.  It was bittersweet. 
                  Anthony placed Grace on the bed, her skin pale and beautiful against the dark green of the bedding.  The cream lace was almost the exact color of her skin, giving the impression of nudity without the satisfaction.  As much as he wanted her naked, he wanted to savor the moment.  With everything they’d shared, he knew that Grace was holding herself back in some way.  She didn’t trust what was between them.  Getting past her sensual barriers, introducing her to pleasure in all its many forms had been the easy part.  Breeching the emotional barriers was proving to be even more difficult.  Where pleasure had failed, he hoped that vulnerability would work.  Grace